The Pain in Qian Daoliu's Heart, and the Six Priests' Unwavering Support!

Meanwhile, at the summit of Angel Sacred Mountain, inside Worship Hall.

Word of Qian Juechen's sudden return after twenty years had already reached Worship Hall and every priest through the guards' reports.

Several priests who had been in seclusion had cut their training short and emerged at once. This mattered too much. It could determine Spirit Hall's succession and future.

Silence filled Worship Hall. Every gaze rested on the tall, imposing middle-aged figure at the front.

He was Angel Douluo Qian Daoliu, famed across the continent as invincible in the sky and one of the three Limit Douluo of this age.

His eyes were closed and his hands clasped behind his back as he faced the sacred statue of the Angel God. His face betrayed nothing.

No one knew what the Grand Priest was thinking.

Qian Jun, Jiang Mo, Xiong Shi, Guang Ling, and the others did not dare ask.

What did the name Qian Juechen mean to the Qian family and to Spirit Hall? These old retainers knew all too well.

Twenty years ago, Qian Juechen, the eldest grandson of the Qian family, had slipped away from Spirit Hall without permission. He had vanished without a trace or a word.

Years ago, Qian Xunji, the Qian family's eldest son, had suffered wounds in his battle with Tang Hao that never healed. He had died from them.

Both events had left a lasting ache in Qian Daoliu's heart. He could understand what had happened to Qian Xunji, but Qian Juechen? Why had he fled Spirit Hall?

Why had he never returned, not even once, in all these years?

Why had he refused to come back even when his father died?

Was affection really so scarce in the Qian family?

The question had lodged in Qian Daoliu's heart like a thorn he could not pull free. Xue'er's arrival had eased his pain somewhat. Perhaps, having learned from the past, he had allowed Bibi Dong to take the Pope's Position to make it up to Xue'er and spare her some of the pain of a broken family.

Unfortunately, even this man who had dominated the continent had underestimated the depths of Bibi Dong's madness.

The silence grew oppressive. At last, Golden Crocodile Douluo, seated in the second seat and the most senior priest in Worship Hall, spoke.

"Big brother, Juechen has been away nearly twenty years. Now that he's finally back, whatever happened in the past, he's still a child of the Qian family and Xiao Ji's only son. He bears the responsibility of carrying on the family line."

Golden Crocodile stopped there. Some things needed only to be said once. For all their seniority, they were outsiders. Qian Daoliu had to come to terms with it himself.

The other priests began to voice their agreement. Their meaning was clear: keep Qian Juechen, train him, and let him take his father's place as Pope. The position had been his to begin with.

None of these priests were fools. They were powerful, but they had descendants of their own.

They had chosen to follow Qian Daoliu because of his strength, Spirit Hall's power, and the character that had won their loyalty.

But once Qian Daoliu was gone, they would not follow a new master. Whom, then, would their descendants follow?

The madwoman who now held the Pope's Position?

What a joke. The other priests had resented her rise from the start.

If Qian Daoliu had not overruled every objection and settled the matter himself, she would never have taken the position.

Listening to his old brothers behind him, Qian Daoliu slowly opened his eyes. He remained silent a long while before he spoke.

"You're right. He is Xiao Ji's son, and the only grandson I have left in this world."

"But don't forget. He left without a word, and stayed away for twenty years."

"He didn't even come back to see his father off!!!"

Qian Daoliu closed his eyes again, his feelings in turmoil.

At last, emotion crossed his aged face: anger at Juechen's wordless departure, disappointment at his disregard for family, but above all, relief and joy that he had finally chosen to return.

And he had come straight to the foot of Angel Sacred Mountain. Clearly, he was ready to face whatever awaited him.

I hope he has a good enough reason to convince me, the many powerful people of Spirit Hall, and everyone under heaven.

Qian Daoliu opened his eyes again, a sharp gleam flashing through them. He turned to the captain of the guards at the door. "Pass down my order. Let Juechen ascend the mountain. No one is to stop him. Open the doors of Worship Hall. I want to see how this grandson of mine has changed and grown in the nearly twenty years he's been away!"

The priests froze at his command. Then their gazes followed his beyond Worship Hall, through the layers of cloud and mist, as though they could see the figure waiting at the foot of the mountain.

At the mountain's foot, Qian Juechen drew his gaze from the familiar surroundings. Just then, the commander of the Angel Legion flew down from Holy Mountain. Before the startled eyes of those nearby, he bowed slightly to Qian Juechen. "Young Master, the Grand Priest invites you up the mountain."

The commander of the Angel Legion was a Titled Douluo himself and ranked among Spirit Hall's highest officials.

Led by bearers of the Angel Spirit, the Angel Legion drew together many soul masters capable of flight from across the continent. It was an official army charged with hunting down Fallen Ones and Evil Soul Masters.

It was Spirit Hall's trump card, and Worship Hall's as well.

Yet this powerful man, held in high esteem throughout Spirit Hall, had bowed respectfully to a young man who had appeared at the foot of the mountain in Heaven Dou City and addressed him as "Young Master." Some of the less experienced officials present had no idea what to make of it.

No one explained. Qian Juechen merely nodded to the commander. "Sorry for the trouble, Uncle."

His main purpose in returning was to change Qian Daoliu's mind. He would deal with that madwoman Bibi Dong first, then whip her stubborn followers into shape and change Spirit Hall's future.

He had not come to oppose these people. The current commander of the Angel Legion, the six priests of Worship Hall, and his grandfather were, in a sense, the staunchest support he had.

Making enemies of them served neither their interests nor his, let alone the future.

Qian Juechen looked up at the steps and began to climb. He had barely started when a vast pressure surged down from Angel Sacred Mountain. Everyone looked toward the summit. At some point, the immense phantom of a Six-Winged Angel had appeared in the sky.

An elderly man with a kindly face stood within the towering angelic phantom. At the sight of that familiar face, commanding without a trace of anger, a flicker of memory passed through Qian Juechen's eyes. He had a fair idea what his grandfather meant.